A Twisted Gundam Carol
by Merula
Summary: Our version of the Christmas Carol Gundam Style. AU, OOC, some Relena bashing and suggestive language. 1x2 3x4 hinted. Complete! Out takes added.
1. Quatre is a miserable bastard

Disclaimer: Neither Gundam Wing or The Christmas Carol are mine.

Yes, like this hasn't been done before, but we wanted to do it too.

Plotz and Ponder are ours, but I'm sure you'll notice a resemblance especially if you are a fan of the Muppets.

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_Rashid was dead to begin with. I know that will upset some of you, but let's face it, this story has a TON of ghosts. Some characters, Rashid among them, have to be dead. That's just the way it is. If Dickens had used pink elephants instead of ghosts, then we would have to have some of the characters be pink elephants. _

_You see now that ghosts are not that bad. So- _

_Rashid was dead to begin with. I've said this several times now but you have to know this, before we begin, or nothing that follows will seem amazing to you. So, gentle readers, know that Rashid was as dead as one could get, which is very dead indeed. As dead as a doornail. As dead as disco. As dead as PeeWee's career after his infamous movie exposure. As dead as... well, we're sure you get the point. _

_But I get ahead of myself. It is always good to start with the introductions. I am your narrator, Plotz the Bunny. I'd doff my hat, but inside is my faithful but silent partner, Ponder the Hamster. _

His top hat suddenly pops open and a small hamster appears waving a sign that reads **'Hiya!'**

_Hiya? We're doing Dickens you uncultured rodent! Not Disney! _

The sign changes: **'Bite Me.'**

_If you don't behave, I'll toss you out and let that hawk that's always after you do just that._

The hamster vanishes and a small white flag appears waving briskly.

_That's better. Now, where was I? Ah yes… _

_Rashid was dead. His partner, Quatre Winner, was still alive and still running the corporation the two of them had started many years ago. Still, Quatre was too cheap to have Rashid's name painted off the door. So sometimes new clients would call Quatre Quatre and sometimes they called Quatre Rashid, but he answered to both names and didn't care what they called him, so long as their money was good. _

_Oh, but he was a tight-fisted hand at the grindstone Quatre! A squeezing, grabbing, wenching- uh- wrenching, grasping, scraping, clutching…_

An **'Enough with the ING words'** sign appears out of the hat.

_Fine, fine. He was a big, big meanie. Is that better? _

'**Won't get us in trouble for plagiarizing**.'

_Okay. So, no one liked Quatre and he liked no one. He had no friends, no lovers, no associates, no fan girls and even the dogs shunned him. _

'**So did the hamsters!' **

_Sigh. And no creatures liked him, not even a mouse. _

'**I'm a hamster!' **

_Mouse, hamster, lawyer- all vermin, what's the difference? Can we get on with it? _

'**Go ahead.' **

_Thank you. So, to get on with it, let's start with the best way to start a story_.

'**There once was a girl from Nantucket?' **

_I said story, not limerick. Good effort though. No, that traditional old hook: _

_Once upon a time- a Christmas Eve to be exact, Winner sat in his counting house, counting out his money_.

'**And the Queen was in the garden eating bread and honey?' **

_This is Dickens, not Mother Goose. Please, let me get out more than a sentence? On second thought, let's just do a quick fade…. _

'**Ooooh! Special effects! I didn't know we had a budget for those!' **

FADE

Quatre sat in his chilly office, counting out his money. "One thousand, two thousand…"

"Sir?"

"You broke my concentration Barton. I will have to start again!" Quatre snapped at the young man in the doorway. The young man cowered a bit, but persisted.

"Sorry sir, but your nephew is here to see you."

"That insufferably cheery fool! Tell him I'm dead." The young man in the doorway was replaced by… another young man. (_C'mon guys, really, its GW! Most of the cast is young men.) _

"Merry Christmas Uncle! You're looking remarkably spry for a dead man!" Quatre's nephew smiled cheerfully.

"And you look remarkably feminine for a straight man, nephew Zechs. Can't afford a haircut?" Quatre frowned.

"My wife likes it," Zechs retorted with a wider smile. Quatre snorted.

"That's a silly reason!" Quatre's frowned deepened. " To what to I owe the displeasure of your company?"

"Ah, let us start over, Uncle. Try not to such a drip this time." His nephew's smile turned patronizing. "Merry Christmas Uncle!"

"Ah, bugger off."

"With pleasure Uncle, but I didn't think you swung that way."

"I don't, but rumor has it my simple-minded eavesdropping assistant does! Barton! Quit cowering behind the door and get back to your desk! I'm not paying you to loiter!"

"Yes sir." Trowa slunk back to his desk, silently flipping his employer off underneath it once he took his seat.

"Useless man."

"That's not what I've heard. Rumor has it he's quite flexible." Zechs drawled.

"Shut it nephew. I'll ask you again: why are you here?"

"The same thing that brings me back this time every year, glutton for punishment that I am. I came to ask you over for Christmas dinner."

"Did I go last year?"

"No. You said that you'd rather be staked out with holly and baked in a pudding than have Christmas dinner at my house. Which reminds me," Zechs took the green holly wreath that he had slung over his arm and hung it up over Quatre's desk. "A little… reminder for you."

"I see." Quatre lifted his eyebrow. "Would this explain that beggar that tried to attack me with that green stake last year?"

"Yes, it would." His nephew's smile didn't waver as he adjusted the wreath.

"I was being purely facetious you know. It was a little spontaneous thing called wit. But I suppose a man of your means lacks the funds to afford such a thing." Quatre turned his back on his nephew.

"Not at all, that poor beggar did it for half a shilling and a bottle of cheap hooch. Personally I thought that a very witty comeback."

The sound of gentle applause came from the front office. Quatre whirled around in his seat.

"I do hope you are just trying to warm your hands up, Barton and not encouraging my nephew in his foolishness!" He snapped.

An embarrassed cough came from the front parlor, "Um, yes sir, of course sir. My hands were taking a bit of a chill so I was just restoring my circulation."

"Good, because if I thought otherwise, you would find yourself UNEMPLOYED!" Quatre turned back to his nephew. "You're still here?"

"Really uncle, how you and my mother ever came out of the same test tube I will never know. I can't believe that someone like you is related to someone like me." Zechs sniffed. "You aren't a bit like anyone else in our family, uncle."

_Just at this moment, the door to Marley & Winner swung open and in stepped two ladies. It was the custom on Christmas Eve for certain charitable institutions to send out representatives to collect donations in order to catch people feeling generous._

'**Guilt can be a wonderful thing.'**

_Indeed it is my small furry friend. Indeed it is. _

"Mr. Winner, I presume?" The blonder of the two ladies asked Zechs.

"Alas, no. But what business could two such beauties as yourselves have with such a miserable man?"

"I thought you were married, Zechs?" His uncle snapped.

"Married, yes. Dead, no." Zechs's smile increased in wattage. "I am Mr. Merquise, this good-looking, but unpleasant man is my uncle, Quatre Winner."

"I am Miss Po, and this is Miss Catalonia. We represent the Widows & Orphans Retirement Fund. We were hoping to get a small donation this year in honor of the season?" Miss Po rattled the can in her hand temptingly.

"Widows & Orphans Retirement Fund?" Quatre repeated. "I think not. They made up their minds to be widows and orphans. I don't have to support their lifestyle choice. Get out." He turned his back on the pair. "And that goes for you too, Nephew!"

"Very well, Uncle. And a Merry Christmas to you too." Zechs extended his arm to Miss Catalonia. "I will be more than happy to make a donation, if the two of you will just come home with me for a bit, so I can get my checkbook?"

Miss Catalonia took his arm and smiled back. "We'd love to." Miss Po nodded her agreement.

Zechs ushered them out of the office, giving Mr. Barton a pitying look. "Merry Christmas, Trowa."

"Merry Christmas, Zechs."

"Give my regards to your lovely sister." Zechs ushered the ladies out of the office saying, "I can't wait for you two to meet my wife, Lucrezia. She's a very flexible lady…"

Quatre heard the door slam behind his nephew and snarled. The wreath Zechs had hung over his desk was tilted to the side and filling the air with the aromatic scent of Christmas.

Quatre sneezed.

There was another stir outside and a knock at the door. "If that's one more person asking for money…" Quatre got to his feet and headed for the door before Barton managed to uncurl his freezing form from his seat.

Quatre flung open the door. Three ladies stood there, dark choir books in hand. They began to sing:

"Christmas, Christmas time is here, time for joy and time for cheer…"

Quatre slammed the door in their faces and strode back into his office.

And sneezed.

He scooped the wreath off the wall, charged back over to the door and flung it open. The three women were still there, blinking. He threw the wreath at them and slammed the door. The middle one caught it neatly.

"And you said he didn't like the song, Rhonda!" She said triumphantly.

"He threw a wreath at us, Kenzie," the other pointed out. "I still don't think he liked it."

"Ah, what does it matter," the third laughed. "It's getting late. Let's go home, hang it up over the bookcases and snuggle with the cats!"

"I hate this season!" Quatre fumed as he sat back down in his chair. "Barton!"

"Yes sir?"

"I'm going home. No point in sitting here and being assaulted by all these Christmas-obsessed idiots."

"You know sir," Barton said quietly, "it will be worse tomorrow."

"Is that a sneaky way of asking for a day off?"

"No one else will be open tomorrow sir. People will be going around, dancing in the streets, exchanging gifts, asking for money…"

"Fine. Take the damn day. And be here all the earlier the next!"

"Yes sir." Trowa hid his smile of triumph. Quatre swirled his cloak around his shoulders and prepared to slam his way out of the office. "Have a…"

"If the words 'Merry' and 'Christmas' cross your lips, you'll be spending tomorrow waiting for the unemployment office to open."

"Nice evening sir." Trowa finished. Quatre didn't reply, slamming the door behind him.

Quatre made his way home, managing to trip an old lady carrying a lot of packages, kick two dogs, and make a face at a baby.

Trowa also made his way home, after ascertaining that his boss was indeed gone. He got propositioned four times on his way home; by two women, one man and a group of art students that said that they wanted to sketch him.

A sign waved: **Question?**

"_Yes?" _

**Why does Barton work for such a grump? Can't he find another job? **

"_Nope. Jobs are hard to come by in this time period." _

'**Sucks to be him.' **

Quatre paused on his doorstep. The storm that had started on his way home had gotten worse. He'd go to bed early to save on heat. He stuck his key in the lock and suddenly a shiver of dread passed over him.

The knocker in the center of his door had winked at him.

Quatre wasn't used to being winked at, at least not by doorknockers, and definitely not by doorknockers that suddenly looked like his old partner.

He blinked, and the doorknocker was a doorknocker again.

"Bet Zechs sprayed that wreath with some kind of hallucinogen," he muttered to himself as he unlocked the door and made his way inside. "Next waif I see I'm going to give him 2 pence to tackle Zechs and shave his head."

A sign waved again.

"_What now?" _

**Aren't there supposed to be ghosts in this story? **

_Yes. Four of them, to be exact. _

**Well, where the hell are they? **

_Did you miss the doorknocker thing? _

**That's it?! That's one of the ghosts? That was lame!**

_Hey! That was Dickens! The real ghosts are coming up shortly! _

**Well, can't we just skip ahead? I want some ghosts! **

_Fine. Fine. Have it your way. _

Quatre changed his clothes into his comfy flannel pjs and sat down in front of the fireplace with his dinner of bread and cheese.

**Cheese! Yum!! **

_You said you weren't a mouse! _He ate quickly in his darkened room, his eyes on the dancing flames of his meager fire.

When the flames turned an eerie blue, he was quite surprised.

END PART ONE 

**End part one? Why are we ending there? We're finally getting to the good part!**

_We have to end there. _

**Who said? **

_Just something a little bird told me to do- always leave them hanging she said, makes them come back wanting more. _

**Birds are mean. **


	2. First ghosts

Disclaimer: Neither Gundam Wing or The Christmas Carol are mine.

Yes, like this hasn't been done before, but we wanted to do it too.

Plotz and Ponder are ours, but I'm sure you'll notice a resemblance especially if you are a fan of the Muppets.

The madness continues….

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_It was the best of times, it was the worst of times… _

A sign pops out of the hat and smacks Plotz.** What the hell? **

_Oops, sorry. Wrong Dickens. Where was I? _

**GHOSTS, you lop eared poof tailed varmint! **

_Ahhh, yes. Ghosts. Well, then, dear readers, Rashid was dead to begin with. _

The sign smacks him again. **WE KNOW THAT! **It flips over: **Quatre is in his house and the flame turned an eerie blue! **

_Right. Got it. Eerie blue flame… _

Quatre blinked at his fireplace. Well, there was something he hadn't seen before.

"Quit acting so goddamned jaded! There are lots of things you haven't seen before!" A familiar voice snapped. An even more familiar looking head popped out of the flames.

"Rashid?" Quatre choked. "What are you doing in the fireplace?"

"Some damned fool read too much Harry Potter." Rashid stepped out of the flames, settled his chains and took the seat opposite Quatre.

"Um, not like it isn't good to see you, Rashid," Quatre started. "But you've been dead for the last two years. It's a little late to come and visit."

"It's almost too late for you, Master Quatre! That's why I'm here!"

"I'm not 12 anymore Rashid. This isn't past my bedtime."

"No," Rashid snapped. "I meant late, as in the late Quatre Winner."

"Is that supposed to be a threat?"

"Well, yes."

"It's not a very good one, is it?"

"ARGH!" Rashid surged to his feet and shook his chains at Quatre. "You are supposed to be scared, damn it! I just showed up out of the blue…"

"The flames were a nice touch."

"Thank you." Rashid blinked. Damn it. Sidetracked again! "Argh! I'm a ghost damn it!"

"Look, Rashid. It's not like I haven't seen you wrapped up in chains before. Not to mention the fact that I am fairly certain that you are not really here. You are just a figment of my tired imagination."

"Why don't you trust your senses?"

"Because the littlest thing can upset them. Like Zechs and his hallucinogenic wreath, for example." Quatre smirked.

"That wasn't a hallucinogen! It was filled with holiday spirit."

"Ah, that explains it. He sprayed it with alcohol. I'm surprised you aren't pink on top of it all."

"Quatre! I am being serious! These chains I'm wrapped in were the ones I forged in life, every time I was mean to someone, every time I foreclosed on a mortgage, every time I kicked a kitten, every time I hid Abdul's sunglasses, I created another link."

Quatre sighed. "Those were happy times. What are you talking about? Chains always were your thing. Don't you remember the time with…"

"NO!" Rashid decided that subtlety was lost here, and just cut to the chase. "Quatre, you are a mean, horrible bastard. If you don't change, you are going to be condemned to haunt this world like I do, wrapped in chains…"

"Wrapped in chains isn't bad…" Quatre muttered.

"Forced to be forever by my side!" Quatre turned pale.

"NO! Anything but that!"

"Tonight, you will be haunted by three ghosts. The first one will be here when the bell tolls one."

"One? One AM? I need my beauty sleep!"

"Quatre, it's way too late for that."

"Shut up, you jealous prick."

"You may be pretty on the outside, but inside you are rotten. We are going to fix that." Rashid smiled terribly. "See you, master Quatre. Don't forget… when the bell tolls one…"

And the ghost vanished. The flames returned to their natural orange color and all was as it had been before.

**That wasn't much of a ghost. He wasn't even scary. **

_Oh, just wait, Ponder. The worst is yet to come… _

**You aren't going to stop here are you? **

_No, why? _

**Whew. That last sentence sounded like a cliffhanger. **

_We could… _

**Don't you dare! I want a scary ghost!**

_You got it._

Quatre climbed into bed, pulling the bed curtains tight. If he was lucky, he'd just be able to sleep through the rest of the ghosts.

Though the idea of spending eternity with Rashid was pretty awful…

Quatre closed his eyes and told himself firmly to go to sleep. This was all just a bad dream anyway. Might as well get some rest during it. He fell asleep.

WHACK! The bed shook.

Quatre sat up and rubbed his eyes. What the hell? Why was his bed shaking?

WHACK! The bed shook again.

"GET UP! YOU MISSED IT!" A furious voice yelled on the other side of the curtain.

"Missed what?"

"The bell, you infidel! It tolled one a whole minute ago!"

"So, it's 1:01?"

"Yes, and you're late!"

"This isn't going to be another bad late as in the late Quatre Winner joke is it?"

"If you don't get your ass out of that bed it will be! I will skin your dishonorable hide from your body and use it as a towel! GET OUT HERE!"

Whoever it was sounded really really grumpy. Quatre decided that it was in his best interest to comply.

"All right, all right. I'd hate to have you bust an artery and keel over- again."

Quatre threw back his curtain and took a good look at his first visitor. A young transparent Chinese man stood there, hair firmly tied back in a neat ponytail, a very large wooden sword held threateningly in one hand.

"There you are. Touch my sword."

"I beg your pardon?"

"Touch my sword," the other repeated.

"Like hell I will. Are you sure you haven't confused me with my nephew? A man's sword should only be touched by himself." To Quatre's surprise the other nodded.

"Exactly! It is dishonorable…Wait a moment," the large sword swung down in front of Quatre's face. "I meant this sword!"

"You mean this stick."

"It's a sword!"

"It's a stick!"

WHACK!

"Fine. Whatever you say." Quatre rubbed his head and frowned. "I'll touch your sword. But that is all I'm touching!"

Quatre put his hand on the apparition's wooden sti...uh, sword.

There was a tremendous flash of light and Quatre found himself standing in a garden.

"Do you know where we are?" The ghost of Christmas Past asked him.

"I'm not an idiot. This is my parents house." Quatre blinked. "Though I admit that it's odd, since I had the place demolished five years ago."

"We are in the past. My job is to show you your past Christmases and see if you can figure out how you became such a miserable bastard."

"At least I'm not a ghost with a big stick!"

WHACK!

"Ouch!" Quatre rubbed his head and then took a swing at the ghost's mocking expression. His hand passed right through the apparition. "Damn it! How come you can hit me and I can't hit you?"

"Corporeal punishment."

"That's a bad pun."

"Shut up and watch."

Three children, in their early teens, came running out to the garden. The two older girls had their arms around the third, a boy with tears running down his face.

"I don't want to take over the business!" The boy sobbed. "I don't want to be a miserable bastard like Dad is!"

"You don't really have much choice, Quatre darling," the oldest girl said. "Dad wants you to marry your niece Relena and take over the business!"

"But I don't want to marry Relena!" The boy protested.

"Why not? She's pretty and well connected."

"And enjoys tormenting small children!"

"Now, now Quatre that's just a rumor." One sister said soothingly. "Alleged child torturer, nothing's been proven yet."

"But what about the livestock?"

"Shush, now you're being silly!"

"Besides, what will you do instead then?" The other girl asked.

"I'll run away and join the circus!"

"Oh come on now," the oldest girl said scornfully, "what would you do at a circus? Feed the lions?"

"Irea was always such a bitch," the older Quatre growled. "I'm glad I had her declared insane and locked up in that mental institution."

"Women are difficult." The spirit agreed, much to Quatre's surprise. He almost expected another whack with the sword.

"QUATRE!" A voice called from the doorway. A young teenage girl in pink stood there. "Come in darling! I've come to spend Christmas with you!" She waved a small sprig of greenery over her head. "Zechs and I are playing the mistletoe game!" Behind her, Rashid, carrying an armload of chains smiled encouragingly.

The younger Quatre made a strangled sound and ran.

"Huh," the older Quatre said as the younger ran right through him. "You'd think I'd remember that."

"Running away from your chance at love?"

"No, I meant that this was only about 10 years ago. Why did I forget that I was engaged to Relena?" Quatre shivered. "Must've blocked it out somehow. I wonder why?"

"Well, let's go see where you ended up. Maybe it will jog your memory." The spirit waved the sword at him. "Touch my sword."

"Oh no, can't we just walk after him...uh... me?"

"TOUCH IT!"

"I'm doing this under protest, I'll have you know."

Once again, there was a flash of light.

**Why are we repeating special effects? Can't we do better than a flash of light? **

_We already used the fade. _

They found themselves standing in front of a few patched looking tents in a clearing next to a dusty road. The younger Quatre was talking to a young man dressed as a clown.

**AAH! CLOWN! **

_Clowns? _

**Clowns scare me!**The hamster vanished into the hat.

_But clowns make people laugh! _

A sign appears, smacking Plotz in the head**CLOWNS ARE EVIL!! **

_Okay, okay, I'll tell you when he's gone. _

"So," a young man with a familiar hairstyle smiled at the younger Quatre. "You ran away to join the circus? What was so bad at home?"

The younger Quatre shuddered as the older one gaped in surprise.

"That's Barton!"

"I take it you know him?" The spirit asked dryly.

"He works for me! But why the hell don't I remember meeting him?"

"I don't want to end up like my father," the younger Quatre told the younger Barton. "He's a miserable bastard."

"Well, in that case, if it will keep you from being a miserable bastard, I suppose you can stay- at least for tonight. This is our last performance."

"Why?"

"Some miserable bastard is buying out the circus." The younger Barton looked sad for a moment. "My sisters and I have to find someplace new to live, and find regular jobs."

"I'll help you if I can." Barton laughed and tousled Quatre's hair.

"Thanks. Come help me feed the lions?" The two youngsters vanished towards the tents.

"Well, that explains why he works for you." the spirit shrugged. "Gods know no one else would bother."

The older Quatre was scowling. "I can't believe I was once such a naive idiot."

WHACK!

"OW!"

"I think you were better off this way." The spirit waved the sword. "And if you know what's good for you, you will too."

"Redemption by threats?"

"Whatever works."

"But why don't I remember this? It wasn't more than ten years ago, and Barton's been working for me for at least five! Why didn't I remember him?"

"Premature memory loss?"

"Bugger off."

"Speaking of which- isn't that your fiancée?" A carriage had pulled up outside the main tent. They watched the blonde haired girl descend, go into the tent, and return, pulling a struggling Quatre behind her.

"But sweetheart, Rashid even set the chains up and everything!" She tossed him into the carriage and they took off.

"Shall we follow?" The spirit asked. Quatre had turned pale, beads of sweat dripping down his face.

"N...N...Nooo. No. I...I don't want to... I think I know why I blocked this Christmas out..."

The spirit blinked in surprise. "It can't be that bad..." He made a small gesture, causing a mirror to appear in his hand. He looked at the images within. "Oh my gods!" He blanched, if such a thing were possible for a spirit.

He turned, seized Quatre by the collar and they instantly appeared back in Quatre's bedroom. The spirit was shaking.

"I can't help you. Not after... after seeing...women...chains...farm animals...." he shuddered. "The Past can't help you! Hope the Present has more luck!" And he vanished.

Quatre was alone in his room.


	3. No time like the Present

Disclaimer: Neither Gundam Wing or The Christmas Carol are mine.

Yes, like this hasn't been done before, but we wanted to do it too.

Plotz and Ponder are ours, but I'm sure you'll notice a resemblance especially if you are a fan of the Muppets.

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_Get out of there! You are squishing my ears! _

**Is the clown gone? **

_Yes, the clown is gone. So is the first ghost. _

**The clown was scarier than the ghost. **

_That's a matter of opinion. Shall we move on now? _

_**Second ghost? **_

Second ghost.

**Scary? **

_Incredibly so. Though perhaps not the way that you are thinking..... _

Quatre huddled under his bed, visions of Christmases Past dancing in his head.

"Make it stop! Make it stop! She moved to Africa! She's nowhere near here! I'm safe. I'm safe!"

The clock tolled two.

"Hello...." He heard the bed curtains move. "Um... hello? I was supposed to meet some miserable bastard here at 2 am?"

The voice sounded cheerful and friendly, gushing with goodwill and happiness. Quatre peeked out from under the bed. A young man with a long braid stood there, dressed in red and black. He grinned at Quatre.

"I'm here, but do I have to go?" Quatre didn't want to leave his hiding space. "I think I've been scared enough..."

"Have you discovered the true meaning of Christmas?"

"Does it involve chains, farm animals and the color pink?" The spirit shook his head.

"No, I don't think so." He raised an eyebrow. "At least not in my circles it doesn't. Try again?"

Quatre thought for a moment. "It's a time to hide from your relatives?"

The young man laughed and shook his head, his braid swinging. "Good guess, but no. Come on." CRACK! His braid suddenly wrapped itself around Quatre's throat with the precision of a fedora wearing whip-cracking adventurer, and pulled him out from under the bed. "Come on, we've got things to see."

Choking, Quatre got to his feet. "What's the rush?"

"Look, you may have no social life, buddy, but I do. A very possessive, jealous social life that doesn't like me taking a long time on my jobs- get it?" The spirit grinned, not so nicely this time. "So, let's get crackin'." His braid whipped out again and caught Quatre full across the face.

Stars fill the air as the scene changes.

**Ooo! Stars are nice! **

_I think so too. _

Quatre's vision cleared and he found himself standing on a busy street corner. People were passing him, calling out greetings and wishing each other a Merry Christmas. They didn't seem to notice the pajama clad Quatre or his black-clad companion.

"Don't worry," the ghost smiled. "They can't see us." He grabbed Quatre's wrist and pulled him into the crowd. "At least, I don't think they can. If you get arrested for public indecency, don't blame me."

"What?"

"Have you ever noticed that everything seems better at Christmastime?"

"Uh no." Quatre frowned. "In fact I though that people got more depressed around the holidays."

CRACK!

"OW!"

"Don't spoil my mood." The ghost frowned. "Look around you. Look at all these people enjoying themselves, forgetting their troubles for one day at least. This is the day when we are supposed to show our family and friends how much they mean to us." Quatre raised a disbelieving eyebrow.

"Have you met my family?" He asked dubiously. The spirit lit up.

"What a great idea! Let's go!"

CRACK! The stars resumed their dance for a moment.

"I think I miss the stick," Quatre muttered as his vision cleared again. "Where are we?" There was a big pile of giggling bodies in the center of the room. "A whorehouse?"

"Your family's house. At least one of them. The closest actually." The ghost replied. "They sure are different than you..."

The pile of bodies in the center of the room shifted slightly. A voice called out: "Right hand red!"

"That's the right hand," a voice said from the bottom of the pile, "but that's not the red dot."

"Yes I am!" A voice replied. "Dot is one of my nicknames!"

"That's the spirit Dorothy!"

"Is it the custom to play games at Christmas time?" Quatre asked the ghost as they watched, fascinated.

"It's a great time to play games," the ghost replied. "I haven't tried this one though, but I am definitely going to try it later!"

The pile collapsed in a fit of giggles.

"Game over!" A young dark haired lady extracted herself from the pile gracefully. Zechs's wife was indeed as flexible as he claimed, Quatre thought.

"That was fun!" The guests pulled themselves up off of the floor. "What next?"

"Strip poker!" Zechs declared. "Everybody- panty up!"

"Do we have to stay for this?" Quatre asked. He didn't need to know more of his relatives this well.

"Are you sure you don't want to stay? It's just getting good!" The spirit laughed. "Ah well, time's a wastin anyway. Let's move on to friends."

"Rashid's dead. I don't have any other friends."

"That's what you think."

CRACK!

Quatre blinked. They stood outside a ramshackle tenement building in the city's poorest district.

"Who do I know here?"

"You'll see." The ghost caught his hand and pulled him through the door.

They stood in a fire-lit kitchen. A young woman was bent over a stove while two more were busy at the hearth. One was turning a goose on a spit; the other was poking the potatoes among the ashes.

"Not too much longer, Sister Cathy!" Said the potato poker.

"Be careful not to fall in the fire, Carrie," her sister responded. "Clarissa- how is the goose?"

"Nearly done!" the other girl replied. "Will Brother Trowa and Tiny Trieze be home soon?"

"They should be," Cathy straightened up and brushed herself off.

The front door opened and Trowa came in, a tiny boy with a crutch on his shoulder. He set the boy down and was immediately set upon by his sisters.

"TROWA!" They slammed him back against the door with the force of their collective embrace.

"Lucky guy," the ghost commented. "Are they really all his sisters?"

"I think so," Quatre replied. "He has four dependents listed on his tax form."

"Oof!" Trowa hugged them as the tiny boy made his way to the table. "It's good to see you too, sisters. Is dinner nearly ready?"

"It is!" The girls let him go and hurried back to their places.

"Then can we eat?" Tiny Trieze demanded. "I'm starving!"

The girls bustled around bringing food to the table.

Quatre frowned. "Such a meager feast. I pay Trowa so little and he has to feed all these vultures? Why doesn't he throw them out?"

"They are his family."

"He could sell them off."

"Slavery?"

"Prostitution."

CRACK!

"OW!"

"You could just increase his salary," the ghost suggested, his braid swinging ominously.

"I guess I could," Quatre eyed the braid warily.

"You guess?" The braid swung a bit faster.

"I will."

"Good boy."

Trowa lifted his glass in the air. "Before we begin, we need to toast my employer, without whom we would not have this feast."

"Toast Mr. Winner?" Sister Cathy demanded. "Are you insane? If I had him here I would give him something to feast upon!" She waved the carving knife threateningly. Quatre hid behind the ghost.

"I told you, they can't see you."

"I'm not chancing it."

"Sister! It's Christmas!" Trowa protested.

"Well, I suppose on the blessed day of Christmas I can raise my glass to Mr. Winner. Even if he is odious."

"And bad-tempered!" Chimed in Clarrisa.

"And badly dressed!" Added Carrie.

"Can we get on with it? Some of us are actually hungry!" Tiny Trieze snapped. "To Mr. Winner! Now pass me that goose!"

"What a sweet child," said Quatre sardonically.

"But a very ill one," the ghost looked sober for a moment. "I can't see too far into the future, but I see an empty chair there next Christmas."

"Tiny Trieze is going to die?" Quatre gasped. "Then I don't have to give Trowa as big a raise as I thought..."

CRACK!

Quatre found himself lying on his own bedchamber floor.

"You are a miserable bastard," the ghost of Christmas Present complained. "But I doubt you'll be able to retain that attitude much longer. My lover will knock some sense into you, or die trying."

"I thought you guys were already dead."

"I meant you'll die trying..." The ghost laughed chillingly and vanished.

Quatre was once again alone in his room.


	4. The Future is a scary place

Standard disclaimer: Gundam Wing is not ours. Neither is Christmas Carol. Much love to all our readers and the LJ ladies. This one is dedicated to you. Thanks for the support.

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**Okay, that ghost wasn't that scary either! I want my money back! **

_You didn't pay anything idiot. You weren't scared at all? _

**Look, that pink girl was scary and so was the clown, but the ghosts aren't! **

_Okay, okay. We have one more ghost and then were finished, okay? _

**Let me guess, he won't be scary. **

_I wouldn't tell him that.... _

Quatre pulled the blankets up to his chin and eased his aching head down on his pillow. Damn those ghosts were rough. The afterlife must be a haven for the S&M crowd. Well, the last one couldn't be any worse than the others.

The temperature in his room suddenly dropped 10 degrees.

Quatre shivered. His bed curtains began to twist as a sudden chilling draft blew through the room. He looked towards the foot of his bed.

The bell tolled three.

Out of the darkness at the foot of his bed, an eerie blue light began to glow. It outlined a figure standing there. The ghost wore a long black trench coat that stayed still as the spectral wind howled around the room. The face was in shadow, but two chilling blue eyes were visible, glowing faintly.

Quatre found himself hugging his headboard. He pulled himself together.

"I guess you're the third ghost?"

Silence.

"Uh... you are a bit more impressive than the other two, 'specially the last one..."

The specter growled, and the eerie light intensified.

Quatre suddenly remembered the last ghost's parting words... and his comments about a jealous and possessive social life. As he scrambled for something to say, the being stepped closer to the bed, its hand diving into the shadows by its side.

Quatre found himself looking down the barrel of a large silver gun.

**I take it back. I'm freaked out. **

_Good. _

**Wait! Why does he have Vash's gun? **

_It's big and scary looking. _

**Ah. That's true. Carry on... **

"Uh. Not that he wasn't good at his job. Really. I'm convinced. I'll stop being a miserable bastard..." Quatre babbled.

BANG!

"OUCH!!!" Quatre rubbed his shoulder, surprised that it wasn't broken and bleeding. It sure had felt like he had gotten shot, but there was no wound. "You shot me!"

"I'm glad you figured that out," the specter replied dryly.

"That hurt!"

"Good."

BANG!

"God DAMNIT! Quit shooting me!"

"No."

BANG!

"OUCH! Why are you doing that?!"

"Get up."

"You could've just asked." Quatre climbed out of bed. The gun swung in his direction again.

"I'm out of bed."

"We have to go look at your future."

"I won't have a future if you keep shooting me!"

"You won't have one if I don't, you mean." The ghost smiled and Quatre shivered. "The bullets are filled with Holiday Spirit. You'll catch it one way- or another."

"So, you're just going to force it on me?"

"Yes."

BANG!

The world exploded.

**Oyo! Best effect yet! **

_I think so too, now be quiet. You're wrecking the spooky mood. _

Quatre blinked. They stood on the same street corner that he and the Ghost of Christmas Present had first arrived on. People were once again walking around and wishing each other a Merry Christmas. But the specter at his side gestured to a group of old men standing on the corner.

"Well, all I know is that the miserable bastard is finally dead," one of them said, adjusting his odd looking glasses.

"I wonder who he left his money to," another one with a very long nose sniffed. "I'm sure he left plenty!"

"Not to the charities that's for sure!" The tallest commented and the group snickered.

"Are you planning on going to the funeral Doctor J?" The long nosed one asked.

"Depends. Do you think they'll serve lunch?" The group snickered again and strode off.

"They mean me, don't they?" Quatre asked the ghost. The ghost merely glared back. "Well, they are in for a surprise. I left specific plans for my funeral and they don't include lunch!"

"It's your funeral," the ghost agreed.

"That doesn't sound pleasant when you say it."

BANG!

The world exploded again.

"Damn it! Take the phrase as a compliment! Psychopath!"

"Thank you." The ghost waved his gun at the shop behind him. "In there."

A woman leaned over a shop counter, regarding the girl in front of her.

"Well, back from the house of the dead. Anything good Hilde?"

"Not really Miss Une. No porn, no jewelry, no special toys. Just these." The girl tossed a bundle of blankets on the counter. The shopkeeper ran a hand over the blankets, her glasses glinting.

"Why Hilde, they're still warm. I don't pay extra for that you know."

"What if I warm them for you..."

"Oh ugh!" Quatre stumbled out of the shop. "I am going to burn those blankets when I get home..."

BANG!

Quatre was almost used to the pain now. Though he didn't think it wise to say it to the specter next to him. He stood in front of a familiar ramshackle building.

"Trowa's house. At least his sisters are better looking..." Quatre mumbled as the ghost shoved him through the door.

The girls were huddled in a corner, weeping.

"I can't believe he's gone!" Cathy wailed.

"Wow, at least someone misses me, that's good right?" Quatre turned to the spirit.

BANG! BANG! BANG!

"OUCH!"

"Don't be an idiot." The ghost crossed his arms. "They aren't weeping for you!"

The door opened behind him and Trowa came in alone, looking pale and sad. His sisters didn't rise to greet him; instead he went and joined them in their huddle.

"Did you pick a good spot?" Carrie asked him.

"I did." Trowa replied. "It overlooks the whole city. Tiny Trieze... loved the city."

"I can hear him now," Clarrisa wept. "Someday I'll rule all of this! He used to say."

"And then he'd laugh," Cathy added. "BHAHAHAHA! Remember?"

"I have worse news girls." Trowa said. "Mr. Winner is dead."

Cathy sat up and dried her tears. "Why is that bad news?" She asked. "We should be breaking out the champagne for that one! You can finally go work for Mr. Merquise! He keeps asking you to come and be his personal assistant."

"I know," Trowa looked worn. "And I will. It's just..."

"You loved him," Carrie hugged him. "Even if he was a miserable bastard."

"He wasn't the first time I met him..."

"We know. We know." Clarrisa patted him. "But he's gone now."

Quatre blinked.

"Barton's in love with me?"

BANG!

"What the hell was that for?"

"Idiot."

"I know! Wow, if I had known that just think about what I could've gotten him to do for me. Maybe that money laundering..."

BANG! BANG!

Quatre fell to the cold ground. And jumped right back up. He had landed on a freshly turned grave.

"What the hell?"

"Precisely." The ghost smiled again. "Let me put it to you this way, Quatre Winner. Change your ways. Become a loving, kind and gentle man or..."

"Or what? Spend eternity with Rashid in chains?"

"Oh no." The ghost's smile grew. "You'll spend eternity with this..." The grave gaped and Quatre fell into blackness.

But then... a vision appeared.

"There you are silly boy! I've been waiting for you! I can't wait to introduce you to all my pets!"

"AAAAAAAARRRRRRRRRRRRRGGGGGGGGGGHHHHHHHHHH!" Quatre wailed in horror.

He found himself quivering at the feet of the Ghost of Christmas Yet to Come.

"Not that! Not that! Please no! I'll be good! I promise! I'll give money to charity! I'll rip up all my leases! I'll marry Barton and adopt his sisters and whatever else you tell me to do! I'll keep Christmas all year round. Anything if it will save me from THAT!!!!"

The barrel of the silver gun touched Quatre right between the eyes.

"Good boy," the ghost purred. "Keep your promise, or that pink hell will be yours. Don't forget!"

BANG!

Quatre sat up. He was in his own bed. With a sigh of relief he noted the complete lack of pink anywhere. He was alive and there was no way that he was going to end up in that horrific place again.

He jumped out of bed and ran to the window, flinging it open. Down below on the street corner was a small group of women. They looked vaguely familiar.

"Excuse me ladies!" He called down to them.

"Yes?" One of them replied looking up. "We're here caroling by the way- nothing else!"

"What day is it?"

"What day is it?" The woman repeated incredulously. "Is this a trick question?"

"Humor him Rose," one of them whispered. "It's that sweet guy that gave us the wreath yesterday!"

Rose shrugged. "It's Christmas Day!"

"Oh good, I didn't miss it!" Quatre grinned at them.

"Had too much eggnog last night sir?" The other one called up to him.

"Not enough actually," he grinned back. "Thank you ladies! Merry Christmas!" And he shut the window. "Let's see, first things first. Buy presents, go visit my nephew, go propose to Barton... better get ready fast." He dove towards his closet.

**Wow. That last ghost sure worked a miracle there. **

_When all else fails a good threat is often the most effective motivation. _

**He's really going to go do all those things today? Voluntarily? **

Quatre, now fully dressed, practically ran out of the room and down the stairs.

_Looks like it. _

Quatre plunged in and out of stores, buying furiously. He sent deliverymen and serving girls scurrying back to his house with specific orders of what he expected, and promised large bonuses if they managed to pull it off.

"That should do it," he said after an hour or so. "Time to go visit Zechs. I hope they haven't started Twister yet..." He suppressed a shudder.

"Uncle!" Zechs opened the door and nearly fell over. "What are you doing here?"

"I came to drop these off for you and your lovely wife." Quatre handed Mrs. Merquise a small wrapped box and Zechs a large wreath of mistletoe. "Merry Christmas. I'm sure you'll put this to good use."

Zechs leaned back against the wall, stunned. His wife laughed merrily. "Thank you Uncle." She kissed his cheek. "I don't suppose you'll stay for dinner?"

"No thank you my dear. I have other plans. Perhaps another time."

"We look forward to having you Uncle." Lucrezia winked and Quatre laughed.

As the door closed behind him, Zechs looked at his wife. "What the hell did we dose that wreath with again? I think we need to buy stock in it!"

Quatre walked towards the Bartons, heart hammering furiously in his chest. This was not going to be easy.

He stopped outside the door and straightened himself up. Then he hammered on the door. "TROWA BARTON!"

Trowa opened the door, shock and fear on his face. "Mr. Winner?" Quatre gave him an icy look.

"You sir, were not at work this morning as we had discussed."

Trowa blinked. "Uh, we did discuss it sir. We weren't opening the office today. You gave me the day off."

"_I_ gave you the day off?" Quatre frowned. "I never give anyone the day off!"

"I know it doesn't sound like you sir, but really, you did. Honest." Trowa's frightened expression was replaced by a worried one. "It was kind of odd now that I think about it... Are you feeling all right today, Mr. Winner? Is your head aching? Are you dizzy?"

He reached out and brushed his hand over Quatre's forehead. "You are a bit warm. Maybe you should come in and sit down. I'll have one of my sisters make you some tea and I'll go for a doctor."

Good Lord, Quatre thought. Here I am, supposedly come to scold him for not showing up on Christmas and he's worried about me. The ghost was right. I am an idiot.

Quatre caught Trowa's hand in his.

"I've never been better." He smiled. "It occurred to me this morning that I never thanked you for letting me feed the lions that time. I was hoping to repay you by offering to feed you and your family today."

Trowa blinked. Then he turned around and yelled into his house: "Cathy! Go get a doctor! QUICKLY!"

Cathy appeared beside him, knife in hand. "Mr. Winner!" She growled, the knife spinning ominously. "What are you doing here?"

"I came to ask you and your family over for dinner today. It doesn't seem like you've started yours yet."

The knife stopped. "Are you serious?" Cathy's eyes narrowed. "Why?"

"Your brother and I need to discuss our partnership."

"Partnership?" Trowa repeated. He turned to Cathy. "Punch me. This is a dream."

"No dream." Quatre tugged on the hand he still held firmly. "Come on. I'll show you."

He managed to get the family into their coats and out the door. Trowa carried Tiny Trieze on his shoulder and Quatre herded the girls along quickly.

They arrived at Quatre's home just as the last of the workers was leaving. The formerly cold rooms had been transformed into a riot of color and greenery. The girls went to ooh and ahh over the tree, while Tiny Trieze went to go stand at the window and look over the city.

"Mr. Winner? What is going on?" Trowa was understandably shocked.

"I've been a miserable bastard for long enough. I don't want to be one anymore. I was hoping you and your family could help me like you once did. I want you to leave your home and come live with me here. I have plenty of room."

"You want all of us?" Trowa blinked.

"Well, I want you, especially, but I realize that you come as a package deal." Quatre smiled. "Though I draw the line at sharing the bedroom with them."

Trowa sat down on the floor. "What... what happened? Why now?"

Quatre sat down next to him. "Does it matter? Just say you'll stay here with me."

"I thought you'd never ask."

**Aww! That's cute!** The hamster pulled out a tissue. **We have a happy ending! **

"Of course we do rodent. I was not going to fail in my mission." The hamster looked up at the Ghost of Christmas Yet to Come who had materialized out of the darkness of storytelling space. "This story has to have a happy ending!"

**EEP! **The hamster vanished into the hat.

"Quit scaring the narrators, lover." The Ghost of Christmas Present materialized beside him. "The story is over and now we can go home and enjoy our time off."

_We're not quite done yet, _Plotz smiled faintly. _One last look.... _

And so we look at the family gathered around a table filled with food. Happy sisters, a happy man whose love had finally been realized, and a man whose life had been redeemed.

And at the end of the table, a tiny boy, who lifted his glass and declared:

"You will bow before me, everyone!"

"We are so going to be visiting him in a few years," Present complained.

"No," Future shook his head. "Past will be able to turn that one on his own."

"How?" Present blinked.

"Let me demonstrate...." Future smirked and pulled Present to him.

_Uh, okay. Well, we want to keep our PG-13 rating, so we'll just end here. Hope you enjoyed the story everyone! _

A small sign pops out of the hat one last time.

**Next year we are sticking with Rudolph!**


	5. Out takes

Disclaimer: Neither Gundam Wing, nor the Christmas Carol are mine. We got a bit inspired and just felt the need to do these. Some of them are a bit…odd.

You were warned.

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"Useless man."

"That's not what I've heard. Rumor has it he's quite flexible." Zechs drawled. Quatre frowned.

"Rumor? Rumor? And how would rumor know? RASHID! Track the source of that rumor down now! And KILL it!"

"It's the line Quatre- relax!" Trowa yelled back.

"Oookay. I now know WAY more than I needed to." Zechs grinned. "So what are the two of you doing later?"

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"Really uncle, how you and my mother ever came out of the same test tube I will never know. I can't believe that someone like you is related to someone like me." Zechs sniffed. "You aren't a bit like anyone else in our family, uncle."

"Well, thank gods for that. I don't want to wear pink and chase after Heero. Or worse yet, wear a mask and fantasize about my mobile suit!"

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There was another stir outside and a knock at the door. "If that's one more person asking for money…" Quatre got to his feet and headed for the door before Barton managed to uncurl his freezing form from his seat.

Quatre flung open the door. Three ladies stood there, dark choir books in hand. They began to sing:

"Christmas, Christmas time is here, time for joy and time for cheer…"

Quatre slammed the door in their faces.

"Kenzie, you're a bit flat," Rose commented.

"FLAT?" Kenzie took a deep breath. "I can assure you that no one has ever thought I was flat!"

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Quatre blinked at his fireplace. Well, there was something he hadn't seen before.

"Quit acting so goddamned jaded! There are lots of things you haven't seen before!" A familiar voice snapped. An even more familiar looking head popped out of the flames.

"Rashid?" Quatre choked. "What are you doing in the fireplace?"

"Some... argh!" The ghost squirmed. "You cheap bastard! I'm stuck! You could've bought a bigger fireplace."

"Ah, but a cheaper one means that I came out a head."

"ARGH!" The ghost vanished.

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Quatre blinked at his fireplace. Well, there was something he hadn't seen before.

"Quit acting so goddamned jaded! There are lots of things you haven't seen before!" A familiar voice snapped. An even more familiar looking head popped out of the flames.

"Rashid?" Quatre choked. "What are you doing in the fireplace?"

"Sweeping it obviously!" Rashid broke into song. "Chim chimney, chim chimney chim chim cheree, a sweep is as lucky as lucky can be."

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The flame turned an eerie blue. Quatre blinked at his fireplace.

"All out for Diagon Alley!" A red headed boy popped out of the fireplace. "Oops! Wrong part of London! Terribly sorry!"

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Quatre closed his eyes and told himself firmly to go to sleep. This was all just a bad dream anyway. Might as well get some rest during it. He fell asleep.

WOOSH! Quatre blinked.

WOOSH! That wasn't the right sound effect. Quatre slid out of the bed. At the foot of the bed was a furious Wufei, swinging his wooden sword in the air.

"Aren't you supposed to hit the bed with it?"

"I can't get it to materialize properly!" WOOSH "Damn it!"

"So, you're having trouble getting it hard? I never suspected that about you Fei."

"Winner!"

"Dad always said that if you played with it too much you'd have that problem, I just never believed him." Quatre grinned. "Rashid had that problem too. You should try his doctor..."

"Winner! Once this thing is solid I am going to shove it straight up..."

"Chang!" Trowa stepped out of the shadows. "He's mine! Hands off!"

"You aren't in this scene!"

"Doesn't mean I'm not watching. Hands off that part of his anatomy Chang- or else!"

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"Exactly! It is dishonorable…Wait a moment," the large sword swung down in front of Quatre's face. "I meant this sword!"

"You mean this stick."

"It's a sword!"

"It's a stick!"

"It's a sword!"

"It's a stick!"

"It's a sword!"

"It's a sword!" Quatre smirked.

"It's a stick!" Fei insisted

"Sword!" Quatre snapped.

"Stick!" Fei snarled.

"Okay, fine. It's a stick." Quatre waved his hand in the air.

"That's right! Hey..." Fei stopped. "No more cartoons for you!"

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"Some miserable bastard is buying out the circus." The younger Barton looked sad for a moment. "My sisters and I have to find someplace new to live, and find regular jobs."

"I'll help you if I can." Barton laughed and tousled Quatre's hair.

"Thanks. Come help me feed the lions? They need their dinner." Quatre paused.

"That's not some kind of creepy code that means that you're going to feed me to the lions, is it?"

"Not unless you call me Leo," Trowa smirked.

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"Have you discovered the true meaning of Christmas?"

"Does it involve chains, farm animals and the color pink?" The spirit shook his head.

"No, I don't think so. But it sounds like you'd be a fun guy to invite over some night. Feel like a threesome?"

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"Have you ever noticed that everything seems better at Christmastime?"

"Uh no." Quatre frowned. "In fact I though that people got more depressed around the holidays."

CRACK!

"Ooo! Hit me again baby!"

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The front door opened and Trowa came in, a tiny boy with a crutch on his shoulder. He set the boy down and was immediately set upon by his sisters.

"TROWA!" They slammed him back against the door with the force of their collective embrace.

"Lucky guy," the ghost commented. "Are they really all his sisters?"

"I think so," Quatre replied. "He has four dependents listed on his tax form."

"Oof!" Trowa hugged them as the tiny boy made his way to the table. "It's good to see you too, sisters. Is dinner nearly ready? I'm going to need some serious energy if I want to please all of you tonight. Unless Tiny Trieze feels like helping out for a change...."

"I've got plans tonight!" Trieze snapped.

"And what plans are those?"

"The same plans I have every night! I'm going to take over the world!"

The girls break out into song:

"To prove his tiny worth, he'll overthrow the Earth. He thinkies, he's dinkies, it's tiny Trieze, Trieze, Trieze…"

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"Sister! It's Christmas!" Trowa protested.

"Well, I suppose on the blessed day of Christmas I can raise my glass to Mr. Winner. Even if he is sexy."

"And an animal in bed!" Chimed in Clarrisa.

"And into S&M!" Added Carrie.

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The bell tolled three.

Out of the darkness at the foot of his bed, an eerie blue light began to glow. It outlined a figure standing there. The ghost wore a long black trench coat that stayed still as the spectral wind howled around the room. The face was in shadow, but two chilling blue eyes were visible, glowing faintly.

Quatre found himself hugging his headboard. He pulled himself together. "Sheesh Heero, did they have a sale on leather trench coats?"

"Shh! No one can be told what the sale price is."

"Ah, I see. You bought it without telling Duo. He's going to kick your ass." Quatre paused. "Unless you bought him one too."

"Actually, I picked him up this leather strap set."

"Really? How many did they have left? I haven't bought Trowa his Christmas gift yet."

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The bell tolled three.

Out of the darkness at the foot of his bed, an eerie blue light began to glow. It outlined a figure standing there. The ghost wore a long black trench coat that stayed still as the spectral wind howled around the room. The face was in shadow, but two chilling blue eyes were visible, glowing faintly.

The spirit spoke:

"My name is VASH THE STAMPEDE! And it is time for my daily massacre!"

Quatre shook his head. "Please, the coat color is all wrong."

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**I take it back. I'm freaked out. **

_Good. _

**Wait! Why does he have Vash's gun? **

_It's big and scary looking. _

**Does Vash know you borrowed it? **

_No, and no one is going to tell him either. Unless you want me to turn you over to Relena! And you know what she does with hamsters! _

**No- what does she do? **

The rabbit leaned up and whispered fiercely for a moment.

**EEW! That's just disgusting! I'm never going in one of those tubes again! **

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Quatre found himself looking down the barrel of a large silver gun.

"That's a big gun. Do you have issues with your masculinity?"

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"Uh. Not that he wasn't good at his job. Really. I'm convinced. I'll stop being a miserable bastard..." Quatre babbled.

BANG!

"OUCH!!! Damn it Heero, I'm bleeding! What kind of bullets are you using?"

"The wrong kind apparently. Oops."

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BANG!

"OUCH! Why are you doing that?!"

"Get up."

"You could've just asked."

"Nah, It's way more fun to shoot you instead."

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BANG!

The world exploded again.

"Damn it! Take the phrase as a compliment! Psychopath!"

"Aw, you say the sweetest things."

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BANG! BANG! BANG!

"OUCH! And you call yourself a hero?"

"Good, bad, I'm the guy with the gun."

"Groovy."

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"Not really Miss Une. No porn, no jewelry, no special toys. Just these." The girl tossed a bundle of blankets on the counter. The shopkeeper ran a hand over the blankets, her glasses glinting.

"Why Hilde, they're still warm. I don't pay extra for that you know! And what about these strange stains?"

"He really was a lonely man."

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"I have worse news girls." Trowa said. "Mr. Winner is dead."

Cathy sat up and dried her tears. "Ding dong the Winner's dead. Which old Winner? The wicked Winner! Ding dong the wicked Winner's dead!"

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"Oh no." The ghost's smile grew. "You'll spend eternity with this..." The grave gaped and Quatre fell into blackness.

But then... a vision appeared.

"Hey, want me to make you a balloon animal?"

"CLLLLOOOOOOOWWWWWNNNNNNSSSSSS! NOT CLOWNS! NOOOOOO!"

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"Oh no." The ghost's smile grew. "You'll spend eternity with this..." The grave gaped and Quatre fell into blackness.

But then... a vision appeared. A vision with scary eyebrows.

"Quatre my love! Feel like helping me out with a DxQ fic?"

"Not Dorothy! Anyone but Dorothy!"

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He found himself quivering at the feet of the Ghost of Christmas Yet to Come.

"Not that! Not that! Please no! I'll be good! I promise! I'll throw away all my whips and chains! I won't make Trowa sleep in the doghouse anymore! I'll buy Trieze that death ray he's been bugging me about! And I won't call Rashid Fido ever again! Anything if it will save me from THAT!!!!"

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The barrel of the silver gun touched Quatre right between the eyes.

"Good boy," the ghost purred. "What a good Quatre! Good boy! Want a nice pair of goggles?"

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He jumped out of bed and ran to the window, flinging it open, and falling out of it.

"OH SHIIIIIT!"

Kenzie looked at Rose. "Was that supposed to happen?"

"I don't know, but I'm giving him a 10 out of 10 for that beautiful swan dive!"

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He jumped out of bed and ran to the window, flinging it open. Down below on the street corner was a small group of women. They looked vaguely familiar.

"Excuse me ladies!" He called down to them.

"Yes?" One of them replied looking up. "We're here caroling by the way- nothing else! If you're interested in negotiable affection you'll have to call on Mrs. Palm!"

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He stopped outside the door and straightened himself up. Then he hammered on the door. "TROWA BARTON!"

Tiny Trieze flung open the door. "Lord Winnerous! Tis me, Darth Triezius! Teach me the way of the dark side!"

"Yes, my young padawan. I can see that the force is strong in you."

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"Well, I want you, especially, but I realize that you come as a package deal." Quatre smiled. "Though I draw the line at sharing the bedroom with them."

Trowa sat down on the floor. "What... what happened? Why now?"

Quatre sat down next to him. "Does it matter? Just say you'll stay here with me and be my personal love monkey."

"Oh, my sweet little hot cross bun, I will happily swing from your rafters."

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And at the end of the table, a tiny boy, who lifted his glass and declared:

"You will bow before me, everyone! I'm serious! Get bowing right now! Do I need to use this cane on you!"

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"Let me demonstrate...." Future smirked and pulled Present to him.

"Wow, Heero is that a gun in your pocket or are you just happy to see me?"

"Damn it, I need to get that gun back to Vash!"

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A small sign pops out of the hat one last time.

**Next year we are sticking with Rudolph! **

_Yeah, and with the G boys doing it who knows what's going to end up glowing?_


End file.
